


Between a Cliche and an Indiscretion

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crack, Humour, M/M, metafic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Jack learns a thing or two, Daniel defends his hair style and Jonas eats a banana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between a Cliche and an Indiscretion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the launch of the Dreamwidth jackdanielpromptfic comm's Clicheathon. Gentle fun poked in many directions.

_“He is forever poised between a cliché and an indiscretion.” – Harold MacMillan._

“So,” Daniel said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice. “Can you get away later to meet in O’Malley’s for a beer and ... whatever.”

Jack looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “Not sure. Kynthia says she might come over, but she could change her mind. She might decide to stay in and bake cakes. I hate her goddamned cakes.” He leaned in over Daniel’s shoulder. “Maybe we could, you know, rendezvous in the storage closet out back in an hour?”

Daniel snorted. “How highly unoriginal.”

Jack looked affronted. “What?”

“Sex in the closet. What a cliché.”

“It is?”

“It is. Trust me. I’ve ... read stuff.”

“Stuff?” Jack said, dick twitching at the thought of reading ... stuff. “Where?” Because, obviously, he wanted to know more. Who wouldn’t?

“On the net,” Daniel mouthed silently into the mirror to Jack’s reflection.

“You’ve read storage closet sex on the net?”

Daniel nodded. “It’s pretty hot, too.”

Jack coughed and kind of squirmed a bit. His pants suddenly felt unfeasibly tight.

“How did you find it?”

“My sister, Sam, found it by accident. She was trying to log on to notablackwidow.com, the new dating site for today’s woman unlucky in love.”

Jack thought about the availability of storage closet sex on the web for a moment. “Wow,” he said, his depth immaterial to this particular conversation.

Daniel hunkered down in the seat and beckoned Jack closer. “I found stories about two guys. You’re not going to believe it, but they’re called Jack and Daniel. “

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Jack’s military and Daniel’s a civilian. Kind of polar opposites. But great in the sack.”

“Wow,” Jack said again, swishing a blue protective gown round Daniel’s shoulders. “Can’t see me in uniform. I’m happy being a good ole Indiana barber with gay-only-for-you tendencies.”

“Jack wears his uniform a lot. In the fiction, I mean. He also sheds it pretty rapidly, too. Usually in the same story and within about a dozen paragraphs. And, as it happens I _can_ see you in uniform. Fire chief, maybe.” Daniel seemed to drift off into his own little world for a while. He shifted in his seat.

“Maybe I need to re-think the uniform thing. I _can_ see myself as a pilot,” Jack said, waving his comb about airily. “Maybe back in the Fifties or Sixties. You I see as a professor type. Gold-rimmed glasses. Jazz fan.”

Daniel coughed. “Read it. The sex was great.”

Jack gave him the look, then picked up his scissors and started work. “You know, you really should think about getting rid of the floppy hair. It’s so 1990s.”

Daniel pouted. “I like my floppy hair. I look bookish and cute.”

“Says who?” Jack shot back, pausing between snips, scissors poised, metal glinting menacingly in the afternoon sunshine. In this light, Jack looked decidedly green-eyed.

“Sarah.”

“The Sarah who works with you? The bookshop manager who doesn’t know her  AA Milne from her AE Housman?”

Jack put down the scissors and ran his hands through Daniel’s hair. He was a barber. He was allowed.

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.”

“Jealous?”

“Moi?”

“Vous, er, tu. Since we’re kind of, um, intimate.”

Jack picked up a tin of styling wax and rubbed some on his hands. “Can we get um intimate later?”

“What do you have in mind?” Daniel’s voice was smoky, and he smiled a small, come-hither smile that made Jack’s dick twitch some more.

“Well, how about I drop by your place and I screw you up against the front door?”

“Cliche,” Daniel said quickly. “Been done.”

“What? I have to be innovative on the sex front now?”

Daniel turned sharply in his seat and hissed, “Can you keep your voice down?”

Jack looked around his little shop. There was only old George “Hammy” Hammond waiting in the corner. Bald as a coot, never needed a hair cut but came in once a month, regular as clockwork, to tell Jack all about his autobiography and its progress, or lack thereof. Jack doubted George’s claims that he was once a high-ranking military spy, but he was harmless and Jack liked him a lot.

“There’s nobody around but Hammy. He’s as deaf as he’s bald. I could tell you how I want to fuck you in the shower and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.”

“Cliche 205.”

“Gah!”

The bell over the door signaled the arrival of a young guy Jack knew only by his first name, Jonas, who bounced in bright as button and eating a banana. “Afternoon, sir,” he chirped, relentlessly polite, taking a seat next to George.

“Hello, Jonas.” The boy made Jack’s teeth ache. Had a damn ridiculous hair style, too. Jack had heard last week from Sly Siler – handyman extraordinaire who knew everything about everyone  – that Jonas was about to leave town after almost a year of lodging with his Aunt Vala and Uncle Murray. Jack was kind of delighted. He’d never warmed to him. And the guy didn’t tip much either. He did talk incessantly about the weather, though. Weird.

Jack ran his hands through Daniel’s hair again, the wax giving shape to the heavy locks. “So, in summary, Daniel, what you’re saying is that it’s all been done before.”

“Yep. Everything. Every cliche, trope and kink.”

“See. I’m not sure we’re even talking he same language here. But  ... everything?  Especially by this other ... Jack and Daniel?”

“Especially by them”

Jack teased and tweaked until the hair was to his liking.

“Blow jobs?” He whispered. Jonas had super hearing.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Fuck-or-we-die fucking?”

“Hoo, yeah.”

“Okay, okay, here’s one ... screwing with three other people after being told to by little green men. Hah!” He stepped back, triumphant and reached for the small mirror to allow Daniel to see the results of his handiwork.

“Read it last night.”

Jack dropped the mirror.

Jonas bounded over to helpfully pick up the pieces while Jack stared open-mouthed at Daniel’s reflection, then slumped, defeated. Jonas went out back in search of a dustpan and brush.

“Ooo-kay ... if you can’t beat them. I’ll meet you in O’Malley’s, we’ll get drunk, go back to your place, watch some porn, swear undying love and have a long, meaningful discourse about who goes on top.”

Daniel blinked. “Or we could read some cliché fic instead.” He rose from the barber’s chair, took off the gown and handed Jack a ten dollar bill. “I know just where to click to find some great new reading.”

 

ends


End file.
